


Tinker, Tailor, Hacker, Spy

by fullmoonrisin



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-27
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-15 10:55:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3444500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fullmoonrisin/pseuds/fullmoonrisin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a friendly rivalry between Gen and Gabriel gets the two in trouble they can't handle, Gen turns to Root and Shaw for help. Takes place during the final chapter of Coming To Terms but can be read as a stand alone fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Hello again POI fans! I’m glad that you’ve been enjoying my fics so far. Here’s another one for ya. This one actually takes place sometime during the final chapter of Coming To Terms, which is why Reese will be absent here. I wanted to show a glimpse of Shaw taking point on field work. Anyway, please R & R!

(For those of you reading this on AO3, the work mentioned above can be read at FFN under fullmoonrisin)  
\-------------------------------------  
The air was thick with the scent of sweat and the sounds of exertion. The moisture dripped down Root’s brow as her lungs burned with an exquisite protesting effort to keep up with her movements. Around her, the ground was littered with sporadically placed articles of clothing; shirts and pants tossed aside haphazardly to reveal the tank tops and boy shorts donned underneath for this occasion. Root deftly sidestepped a punch and took a quick moment to wipe the sweat from her brow. 

She was being put through the workout of her life.

They had been at it for hours and still there seemed to be no end in sight. Root knew, of course, that training with Shaw would be no walk in the park when the arrangement first came into being. Lately, though, Shaw had made it a point to be a particularly difficult taskmaster. Once Root’s leg had healed, Shaw had intensified the training regimen; even going so far as to install a gym down in the subway like she’d always sort of wanted to do. It was a safe bet these days that—in between numbers—they could be found down in the base of operations; Shaw pushing Root to sweat herself to exhaustion. Many times they wore each other out.

That was one of the more immediate benefits of all of this training: The sex.

These training sessions frequently led to physicality of a different sort. Root still wasn’t sure if Shaw’s demanding schedule was intended to be a punishment for being kidnapped, but if it was, it was well worth it. 

The routine varied.

Some days were devoted entirely to weight training, others to cardio, and more to sparring. Some were a mix of all three. Today was one such day. Shaw was currently drilling her on new techniques. Root narrowly dodged a punch thrown at her head when The Machine’s whispers in her ear distracted her. She had made no secret of Her disapproval toward having Her analogue interface so thoroughly worn out on a regular basis; it wouldn’t be good for the numbers. Root quickly found out that Shaw wasn’t quite on the same page the one time she’d tried to voice The Machine’s concern, and that had been the end of the discussion, but the protests had not stopped.

Root countered the punch Shaw had thrown. She grabbed the other woman’s fist before she had a chance to retract it and swiftly pulled her closer, maneuvering herself behind Shaw and placing her in a choke hold with one arm around her neck and the other wrapped behind her head. The palm of that hand rested across the back of Shaw’s head. 

They were only paused like that for a short moment, but it felt much longer. Their bodies were both hyper sensitive; highly attuned to the tiniest bit of pressure from the other body against them. There was a smug grin of satisfaction on Root’s face as she held Shaw in the hold, her breath coming out in shallow pants against the shorter woman’s ear in a way that raised goosebumps on her arms and sent shivers racing up her spine. When their relationship had first become physical in the romantic sense, it surprised Shaw a great deal just how much her body seemed to respond to the hacker. Now it was a feeling she could scarcely get enough of. 

It was the sweetest drug.

They both struggled in that second of pause to keep their minds on the business at hand until it was Shaw who made a move. She reached up to grab the arm around her neck and pull it a bit more tightly, to Root’s surprise. Next, she repositioned the hand on the back of her head. Normally, these silent gestures were Shaw’s way of correcting Root; saying “Here. More like this”, but she knew that this particular technique was one of the first she had perfected under Shaw’s teaching several months ago. The smile on her face widened at her suspicion that Shaw was just taking every opportunity to keep the physical contact between them. The way that her normally rigid body swayed unnecessarily against Root just the tiniest bit as she moved her arms added further to that theory.

Or it could’ve just been a ploy.

Just when Root was beginning to get excited, she made the mistake of allowing her guard to falter the smallest bit. It was the moment Shaw had been waiting for. If Root could’ve seen her face, she would’ve seen the devilish smirk played out on her lips. 

Before Root could react, Shaw grabbed the arm around her neck and pulled as she kneeled down sharply. The movement brought Root’s face just above Shaw’s left shoulder and her eyes widened as she realized what was about to happen. Just as quickly as she’d grabbed Root and lowered herself, Shaw raised her stance and brought her left elbow to Root’s face as she did so.

She elbowed Root two more times, knocking her further back toward the wall with each one before she rounded on her and pushed her the rest of the way, slamming her into the wall and pinning her hands above her head. She had that look in her eyes again. The one she wore the first time she kissed Root after her return, and countless times after that. The possessive one that said she was about to stake her claim on something and there wasn’t a damn thing anyone could do to stop it. It was the look that never failed to make Root’s blood run hot in her veins with anticipation.

“And that’s how you get out of a bear hug.” Shaw rasped in that low whisper that only Root ever heard; the voice that meant she was feeling hot and bothered. Root smirked at Shaw’s attempt to keep up the charade that this was still a training session, even as the intensity of the shorter woman’s gaze burned through her core and the feel of Shaw’s nails digging into her wrists amplified the delicious pressure she felt below her waist.

The smirk faded from Root’s face as the distance between them slowly closed, but her eyes were still bright with need, anticipation, and mirth.   
“Really now?” She teased, playing along. They were so close now that their breath mingling and their faces were the only parts not touching…so far. “And, what if there’s a hold I don’t want to get out of?”

The words escaped her mouth and into Shaw’s waiting breath, releasing themselves in the diminished space between them. Then there was stillness. For a moment, neither one moved, spoke, breathed. They simply stood with their eyes fixed to each other’s in silent communication. Their eyes flitted to each other’s lips in a synchronized movement. Then, Shaw launched herself the rest of the small space.

There was an audible click as their teeth collided roughly before they found their rhythm, and that rhythm was fast and furious. They panted heavily as their tongues clashed for several tantalizing seconds. The spark in the oil refinery had been lit and the fire was threatening to consume them in a wonderful lust-fuelled blaze. Shaw broke away from Root’s mouth to trail scorching kisses along her jaw and neck.   
The breaths were at her ear again. 

They spurred her on as she felt her way down the curves of Root’s body with her free hand. She bit and sucked at the pulse point on her neck as her hand slipped under the tank top and lavished attention on the hacker’s breasts. Root’s head rolled back into the wall and her chest heaved under Shaw’s rough touches. She twisted her wrists in an attempt to free them, but Shaw’s grip was like a vice. Furthermore, she lacked the control to fight against the restraint with all the sensory overload that Shaw’s efforts were causing. Her arms went slack in their grip as Shaw’s busy mouth migrated down toward her chest.

A moan escaped Root’s lips as Shaw bit at her sensitive breast and sucked at the nipple before biting at that too. Her free hand continued to knead at the other breast. She worked her way down Root’s body, eventually being forced to let go of Root’s hands. As soon as her hands were freed, she immediately took fistfuls of Shaw’s hair, pulling in ways that would be painful to most people, but she knew Shaw like the roughness. Besides, Shaw was torturing her. It was a pleasurable torture, but torture nonetheless. Her breath hitched in anticipation as she watched Shaw pause when she was eye level with her hips. She waited with intense desire for Shaw to burn this fire even hotter.  
That moment didn’t come.

She watched the teasing smile spread over Shaw’s face as she stood up. The desire coursed deeply in Root’s veins as she struggled to process just what was happening in her hazy mind. Even now, she could see the effort it was taking for Shaw not to take her right there and she wondered what exactly her game was.

“Sameen?” It was meant as a question, but her voice betrayed her. The sound of Shaw’s name was a breathy plea on her tongue. Shaw only smirked wider at the sound of it, understanding what she was being asked perfectly.

“Shower first.” 

Root groaned in response and her head fell forward from the wall. This woman was going to be the death of her. She shook her head and joined Shaw in gathering their discarded clothes from the subway floor before following her toward the exit.

“You’re such a tease.”

Shaw shrugged, tossing a reply over her shoulder.

“I guess you’ve rubbed off on me.”  
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They had decided on Root’s apartment since it was closest to the subway. In truth, it was only her place in the sense that she still paid the rent on it—she had ingratiated herself into Shaw’s living space several months ago—and now the apartment sat vacant in case the team ever needed an extra safehouse. Though, it was more frequently used for a somewhat different purpose.

Shaw had been true to her word.

Actually, it started with the shower. Then gradually, the fire reignited and spread throughout the apartment with a vengeance. The pair blazed a path through the place in the midst of their passions. They started out first in the bedroom, then on to the kitchen for a food break which quickly led to an interesting use of the kitchen table and some chocolate sauce painting on a very organic canvass…Shaw always did love food.

From there, they continued their lustful path through to the living area before circling back to the bedroom. They brought each other to exhaustion over and over and over again before finally collapsing in a tangle of limbs on the bed. It was nearly five hours since they’d arrived back to the apartment and certainly well past any sensible bed time. Given that, and the extreme training session that preceded their extracurricular activity, Shaw was not the least bit surprised when she woke to find that it was past noon. It did surprise her that Root hadn’t already woken her.

“Root?” She called out, sitting up in the bed as she looked around with a curious gaze. Her phone and weapons were still here. Clearly she didn’t go far. What was missing, Shaw noted, was her phone. She distinctly remembered having set it on the bed side table the night before and now it was gone. Irritation swelled in her at the implication.

Right on cue, Root casually sauntered back into the bedroom brandishing the missing cell phone with a peculiar shit-eating grin on her face. Shaw didn’t particularly care about that just yet.

“Looking for something, sweetie?” Root teased, holding out the phone and Shaw yanked it from her grasp, fixing her with a warning gaze and speaking to her sternly.

“Root.” 

The hacker knew that tone well; the one that said ‘don’t push it’. Shaw had come a long way with her feelings in general over the last couple years, and had opened up to Root a great deal since her return after the NYSE and the ordeal with Anarchy Council. But, as the saying goes, some things never change. Shaw greatly valued her independence. There were some things that she absolutely would not yield on no matter how much Root or Finch or anyone else pushed. One of those things was privacy. She would give it up to an extent, but she drew a firm line in the sand at anyone using any piece of technology that belonged to her.  
Still, there were times that Root just couldn’t resist the old urge to get under Sameen’s skin, even if she told herself she only answered the phone from time to time to allow Shaw to rest.

The grin on her face broadened into a full smile at Shaw’s familiar expression of irritation. “I didn’t know you had a kid, Sameen.”   
The irritation gave way only slightly to confusion as Shaw processed the information. “Last I checked, I didn’t.” She snarked, tilting her head down toward her phone in a flicking motion. “Did someone call?”

“Who’s Gen?”

‘Just a spy I know.” 

Shaw had her reasons for being so cryptic, not that it would do any good with the machine in Root’s ear. She knew how precocious and excitable the young spy could be. If she learned of Root’s abilities, she would no doubt take to hacking, as well, and Root would gladly show her the Ropes. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Root; she did—immensely. It had more to do with Gen. At the age of twelve, she was proving to be well versed in espionage, but she still lacked understanding of one very crucial concept of spying: 

Don’t get caught.

Over the past couple of years since gifting the young spy her number, Shaw had received no less than four calls in addition to the occasional check-ups she would do on Gen. This was the fifth. Usually, it was simple; just a case of the young girl getting a bit too carried away with herself. Nothing Shaw couldn’t fix or show Gen how to fix on her own. Had she bothered to think about those calls more, Shaw might’ve realized that Gen simply called because she wanted to see her. Still, there was always the chance that she could’ve gotten into something serious. It had happened once before, after all.

“At such a young age? Impressive.” Root commented with a trace of awe in her voice and Shaw nodded her agreement as she looked for a shirt.

“What did she want?” Shaw asked, having already gotten out of bed to start dressing at the mention of Gen’s name.

“Nothing she would tell me over the phone.” Root shrugged.

“Well, let’s go find out.” Shaw pulled a Baretta 92 FS from the bedside table and shoved it into her pants behind her back. She knew it was probably nothing, but she never could be too careful. In the back of her mind she wondered what Gen would’ve told her if she’d picked up the phone instead.

‘What did you get yourself into now, kid?’  
\-----------------------------------------------------------  
That’s One. Thanks for reading as always! I hope you enjoyed it! Please R & R!


	2. Chapter 2

Hello again guys! Welcome to Chapter two of TTSS and thank you for reading. As always, please do enjoy! I own nothing; R & R!  
\-----------------------------------  
Chapter 2:  
“So…tell me about Gen.” Root immediately began the prodding that Shaw had known was inevitable as soon as they settled into the car. She rolled her eyes in response as the engine revved to life.

After a quick briefing with Finch about the possible situation with Gen, Root and Shaw were headed up north.

The two hour car ride was usually tedious enough for the former government operative—she never did care for extended travel. This trip, however, had proven to be exceptionally taxing on her patience with Root’s constant attempts to learn more about the young prodigy of a spy over the course of the ride. She had divulged a bit, carefully hedging around the parts that would pique the hacker’s interest most. She just skewed the story a bit, making it seem like Gen’s cousin Vadim had a more active role in the HR kidnapping plot than he actually had. That seemed to be enough to pacify Root for a little bit…until she realized that Shaw was holding out information and began to pester her anew.

At one point, she’d irritably told Root to ask the machine.

That had been the end of the prodding for all of about fifteen minutes. To Shaw’s surprise, the machine wasn’t talking either. That fact filled her with a smug sense of satisfaction and worried her all at once. It was very rare that Harold’s AI outright refused its interface an answer. When it did, it usually meant that providing that information wouldn’t bode well for the bigger picture. In Shaw’s mind, it meant that even the machine believed it might be detrimental for Root to know too much about Gen and her abilities. But that wasn’t the part she was concerned with. She was worried about Gen falling under the influence of Root and her hacking abilities.

Eventually, Root resigned herself to the fact that she would get no further information from Shaw or from the machine and she focused her attention on the radio instead. Shaw found the flipping only slightly less annoying. She knew Root was trying to wear her down, but the dubstep that filled the car after several channels was just a low blow. Somewhere in the farthest corners of her mind it registered that Finch would likely have a stroke if he were to be subjected to this.  
That was how they eventually arrived to the boarding school. Root wore a cheeky smirk as they pulled up to the main gate while Shaw looked thoroughly displeased at her situation. Mercifully, Root finally shut off the music, following suit as Shaw shut the car off and went to open the door.

“I told you: Stay here. “ 

Shaw rolled her eyes at the predictable pout she received in response. Root was still trying to get under her skin. Not now. “Oh, but then I don’t get to meet Gen.” 

“You will. Just not right now.” It was imperative that she did not cave under Root’s attempts at persuasion. “Stay in the car.”

Root pretended to consider Shaw’s command for a moment before continuing to tease. “I don’t know. It’s not every day you get a chance to meet a twelve year old spy.”

Shaw shook her head before hanging it in a defeated gesture as her breath left her in one long gust of air that was reminiscent of a dragon. Even with her gaze directed at the ground she could feel Root’s grin, and the twisted sense of glee the hacker was getting from her frustration as it rolled off of her in waves.

“Root.” Shaw spoke. Her tone was that deathly serious voice that left no room for argument. Usually it was reserved for enemies just before she kneecapped them, but there were occasions like this one that Root enjoyed drawing it from her. “I’m serious.”

Her eyes bore into the hacker with such intensity that she felt she might burn into a pile of ashes right there in the seat. Still, the experience thrilled her; ignited a spark in her veins that scorched her from head to toe. Their favorite moments weren’t the usual tender moments that every couple has, but the moments like this one where there was a lingering danger, however remote, that one of them might actually kill the other one. That was why they found themselves playfully antagonizing each other despite how deep their feelings ran; or perhaps because of it.

“Not. One. Foot. Outside of this car.” Shaw finished her statement through gritted teeth, looking simultaneously like she wanted to beat Root’s head in and kiss her until she no longer had the breath to put up an argument.

They engaged each other in a brief staring contest. It was a quick match of wills before Shaw abruptly turned on her heel to head into the school. Root watched after her with that teasing smirk plastered to her face, certain that Shaw could sense it burning into her back all the way into the building.

Once she was in the building, Shaw was quick to seek out a faculty member, digging up a quick excuse for her visit. She was quickly directed to what the school referred to as the quad. It was an area behind the school that was pretty much a playground. Shaw knew from earlier visits that Gen liked to spend her time there. She thought she saw a flash of the familiar mass of unruly waves somewhere in the crowd as she stepped outside, but it was gone as soon as she spotted it.

Shaw stood for several moments, surveying the playing children for any sign of the young girl, then something caught her eye. 

A flash.

It was the flash of light reflecting off of a mirror.

Shaw’s eyes snapped toward the slide where it came from and her lips curled into a devious smile as she just made out that tuft of hair near the top. She began a quiet stride toward the piece of equipment. She knew exactly what the young spy was doing, and she was intent on challenging the girl’s countersurveillance. It had always stuck with Shaw how Gen was able to detect her so easily the day they first met.

“What’s up, kid?” Shaw smirked as she poked her head into the enclosure at the top of the slide. 

Gen jumped as she registered the dark head of hair intruding into her hiding place but then relaxed when she realized it was only Shaw. The shock on her face gave way to an elated expression.

“Couldn’t make me that time, could you?” Shaw gloated, the smirk stretching wider as she came to sit a bit awkwardly inside the cramped space.

“Shaw!”

Gen started to lunge at the older woman, but then remembered Shaw’s distaste for touching and collected herself, still looking at her as if she might burst and tackle her over at any second. After a couple seconds Shaw heaved a sigh that was punctuated with a roll of her eyes.

“Oh, what the hell?” She muttered, opening her arms. 

Gen was quick to seize the invitation. She threw her arms around the agent’s midsection with an amount of force that surprised her; she felt the breath leave her lungs as her back thudded softly against the metal behind her. Shaw allowed the embrace for a few moments before she protested good naturedly and pushed Gen back with gentle hands. She took a second to appraise the young spy.

Even in this small space, it was obvious that Gen had gone through a growth spurt since Shaw’s last visit. Her face had also matured a bit. There was only a trace amount of the baby fat that had coated her cheeks when they’d first met and though her hair was still wild, it was a bit tamer than Shaw remembered. Her inspecting eye wandered back to Gen’s face to meet her own grey eyes. 

Wait a minute…

Was that…eye liner?

Shaw pushed the shock down as quickly as it had popped up, reminding herself that this was not a ten year old sitting in front of her. While she wasn’t yet a teenager, she was quickly outgrowing childhood.

“So…eye liner, huh?” Shaw smirked in a teasing manner. “Who are you trying to impress?”

She watched with amusement as Gen’s cheeks went red. To the girl’s credit, it was the only tell that gave away her embarrassment. Her usual social grace remained completely intact despite the teasing and she answered Shaw’s smirk with a coy grin of her own as she asked innocently:

“Who said I was trying to impress anyone?  
\-----------------------------------------  
After they’d had a chance to catch up a bit, the two spies headed back toward the school. Shaw hung back and let Gen lead, knowing that they were going someplace private. Specifically, they were going to Gen’s listening station in the basement of the school. Shaw had half-heartedly voiced her disapproval of the girl’s continued spying during her first couple of visits to the school, but she eventually figured that Gen would continue to do what came naturally. The best she could do would be to take Gen under her wing and give her some guidance; show her how to be more discreet. In the latter respect it seemed that Shaw hadn’t quite succeeded. The precocious girl still had a tendency to get ahead of herself in her spying.

Shaw shook her head of the thoughts as they entered the secret listening station and she made herself comfortable in a chair. She noticed that there was a laptop down here that hadn’t been there previously, but thought nothing of it for the moment.

“So, I got your message. What’s going on?”

Gen took a breath at the question, steeling herself for the conversation. She knew Shaw wouldn’t like where this was going to go.   
“We…may have…found something we shouldn’t.”

Shaw smirked knowingly in response. That much was obvious, though she remained skeptical that it was serious. “And by ‘may have’ you mean you did. Right?”  
Gen simply nodded, shrinking just a bit under the stern gaze that overshadowed the smirk on the assassin’s face. “You know, we’ve been through this before.” Shaw spoke in a placating tone that made Gen roll her eyes in a manner worthy of the woman speaking to her. “If you think you’ve been compromised, you just need…”

Shaw’s voice trailed in the middle of her lecture. The whole time she’d been speaking, her eyes had been locked on the lap top behind the girl.   
Gen watched curiously as the wheels turned in Shaw’s eyes.

Gen didn’t use computers for her spying. The computer meant she’d acquired a partner. As soon as the thought entered Shaw’s mind, Gen’s words truly registered with her.

“Wait…did you say we?"

“Yes.” Gen nodded. “A new student. A boy named Gabriel. He’s good with computers.”

For a brief moment, Shaw’s mouth fell open in disbelief that two former numbers managed to strike up a friendship so quickly after the second one had been enrolled in the private school. It seemed unlikely, and while Shaw had no real qualms with Gabriel, this duo was troubling. Not one, but two kids digging into people’s personal lives meant an increased risk of getting caught. Case in point.   
On the up side, the way Gen spoke of Gabriel with little discernible interest in his abilities did make Shaw feel better about any influence Root might have on the girl. 

“He found my listening station; told me he had ways of getting information too. So we decided to see who could come up with the most information on the faculty.”

“Yeah…” Shaw drawled with a sigh. “Again, did it ever occur to you that that may have been a really bad idea?”

Suddenly, there was a sound at the door. Shaw’s head shot up and she instinctively whipped around to face the source of the noise.  
It was Gabriel…closely followed by Root.

“Really, Root?” Shaw asked with a pointed glare and a frustrated sigh.

“Sorry, sweetie.” Root smiled unapologetically as she sauntered further into the room. “Her orders.” 

Shaw let the matter drop, but not before shooting a final glare in Root’s direction as she made her way over to Gen.

“Nice to finally meet you, Gen. My name is Root.” She spoke sweetly, offering her hand to the young spy. Gen accepted the gesture but looked at Root with a mixture of confusion and recognition.

“You’re the woman I talked to on the phone…” Root nodded and opened her mouth to reply, but Gen kept speaking. “What happened to the guy in the suit?”

She watched curiously at Root and Shaw’s similar reactions; the way their faces both darkened at the question. For a few brief moments, the woman she now knew as Root gave off a sad air, suddenly finding the floor interesting as if Gen’s question had made her feel ashamed of something. Similarly, Shaw’s eyes were also downcast toward the floor, though Gen suspected it was in effort to keep anyone from seeing the emotions that played out in them during those few moments of silence.

It was all Gen needed to understand what had happened.

It was Root to speak up first. Her voice waivered just slightly with the lingering emotion and she swallowed thickly in effort to force it back down to the pit of her stomach.

“We’re going to need anything suspicious you’ve found.”

“Root?” Shaw knew that tone. It was the commanding one Root used when the machine had given her a mission. It could only mean trouble. But how much?

“You’re about to stumble upon something very big.”

Root’s eyes locked with Shaw’s confused expression.

“Something we need to stop.”

\-----------------------------------------------  
There’s two! Hope you like it. It’s about to get crazy! Please R & R!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Root heads undercover at the boarding school while Shaw is saddled with a grumpy Fusco. Meanwhile, Finch is left to try to find out more about Gen and Gabriel's discovery.

Hello and welcome to chapter 3! Thank you everyone for reading! I know the first couple of chapters were a bit slow, but things will start to heat up here. As usual, I own absolutely nothing. Please R & R!  
\-----------------------------------------------

Chapter 3:

“You do have a dog!”

Gen’s eyes lit up as the four of them entered the subway and were immediately greeted by an enthusiastic Bear. The dog greeted Shaw briefly before moving on to the only face he didn’t recognize, his tail wagging happily as he acquainted himself with the young spy. Gen giggled at the strokes of his tongue over her face and she pet him in return.

Shaw watched the scene with a smile perched on her face. She let it continue for a few moments longer before deciding Bear had sniffed around enough. “Bear, Af!”

At the command, he immediately ceased his sniffing and licking and scampered off back to Harold who was limping his way toward them to investigate what had stolen the dog’s attention. His brow furrowed in confusion at the sight of the two kids down in the subway. 

“What’s this?” He gestured to Gabriel and Gen. He didn’t expect that they would be preemptively brought down into the subway in the absence of a threat. It wasn’t Shaw’s usual style.

“We told you we questioned them.” Shaw answered, not quite sure what Harold was confused about.

“Yes, but you neglected to mention that you were bringing them back with you.” Harold ignored the mocking looks he was receiving from both women. “Surely you realize that the school will notice that two of its students are missing when the staff does their daily head count.” He pointedly arched an eyebrow at the pair, showing his disapproval of the situation.

“Oh, relax, Harry. We took care of it,” Root brushed his concern off with a friendly wink. “You know, you really should learn to worry a little less .”   
Harold and Shaw watched her usher the two kids further into the subway, seemingly intent on giving them a tour of the place. Though, Gabriel had been down before and was more interested in Finch’s surveillance and computer set-ups.

“Yes, well, given the company I keep, that’s a rather arduous task, Ms. Groves.” Finch commented at Root’s retreating back before turning a keen eye to Shaw.

“Were you able to learn anything probative?”

Shaw shook her head. “Not much; only that a secretary at the school may be involved in something shady.”

Finch was quiet for several moments. His forehead was twisted in concentration as he worked to put together the scant pieces they had of this puzzle. 

“Ms. Zhirova—Gen—wasn’t able to shed any light on that?”

“No. They say they stopped prodding as soon as they came across something that seemed suspicious, but you know how Gen can be.” 

Harold nodded, eyeing the items in Shaw’s hands. “Are those the recordings?” He reached for the tapes and Gabriel’s USB drive as Shaw nodded in response.

“I’ll get to work analyzing these.” He turned halfway toward the direction of his computer, but Shaw kept his gaze, sensing that he had more to say. “In the meantime it might be prudent to keep an eye on this secretary. The machine hasn’t given us numbers related to this yet, but that doesn’t mean it won’t soon.”

“Already on it.” Shaw agreed. “Well…we’ve at least got ears on her; Root snuck one of Gen’s bugs into the office before we left. She’s going back to do a little recon later.”

Finch hummed in acknowledgement. He lingered back just slightly, thinking. There was still something about this troubling him. “Just one more thing, Ms. Shaw. For what reason did you bring Ms. Zhirova and Mr. Hayward back with you? It seems a tad preemptive given our knowledge of the situation.”

Shaw shrugged in response. During her trips to the boarding school, she had felt that restless itch after only a few minutes. She could only imagine what it must be like for two kids who had to live there during the school year. “I guess I just figured they could use the break.”

Harold seemed to accept her answer, looking at her with a searching gaze. In truth, that was only part of her reason. She had the sneaking suspicion that the kids were holding back more important information despite her and Root’s prodding. Gut feeling told her that it was game changing information and someone at the school, if not Gen or Gabriel, could be in danger. At any rate, it was up to Finch now to find out what exactly they were dealing with.

With the conversation at a close, Shaw went to head for the subway car, but was called back yet again when Finch was struck with an afterthought.  
“Just a moment, Ms. Shaw.” He called. “If I’m going to be busy listening to this surveillance, I’m going to need you to take over the number I’ve been working on.”

He was answered with a slight nod and Shaw walked off toward the subway car to ready herself for field work, leaving Harold to his own responsibilities.

\--------------------------------

A short while later found Shaw sitting in car with Fusco, staking out a jeweler who Finch believed was running a scam operation; selling fake diamonds to unsuspecting patrons. The problem? His shop had become entangled with some of the more unsavory characters of the New York underbelly. He was unknowingly conning some very dangerous, vengeful people. People who would no doubt come looking for blood once they realized how stupid they had been.

Shaw was interrupted from her surveillance of the street when her phone vibrated inside her coat pocket. She pulled it out to find a text with no words, just a picture.

It was a picture of Root.

The photo was clearly taken in the subway. Root donned a simple slate gray pantsuit and a pair of wire-frame glasses. Her hair was pulled back into a bun. The traces of ‘Root’ were carefully hidden in her appearance, posture, and facial expression. Clearly, it was a disguise, but Shaw’s brow furrowed in thought as she tried to work out why exactly Root had sent her the picture. Just when she went back to watching the street, her earpiece crackled to life and the hacker’s sunny tone was in her ear.

“Hey, Sameen. How’s the recon? I take it no one’s lost their kneecaps, yet?” 

The corners of Shaw’s lips ticked upwards in response and she shook her head even though Root couldn’t see it. “No, but with any luck, I won’t have to wait too much longer.” There was a brief silence and Shaw’s mind went back to the picture on her phone. “I got your text.”

“And? What did you think of Ramona Collins the office clerk?”

Beside Shaw, Fusco rolled his eyes. They hadn’t bothered to switch to a private channel and he knew the direction this might take. She rolled her eyes at his grumbling even as Harold was in their ears advising them that if this conversation continued down its current path, he would be forced to put them on a private channel. She smirked deviously.

“Well, the pantsuit’s fine for a boarding school, I guess. Personally, I would’ve shown a little more leg.” 

“I am glad you said that, sweetie. I know how much you like my legs.” The statement was followed by Fusco retching in the passenger seat next to Shaw coupled with the sound of a click in their ears. Harold had mercifully switched them over to their own channel, it seemed. Too bad Fusco would still have to listen to her side of the conversation.

“Not as much as I like other parts of you.” She spoke in the most suggestive voice she could muster, glancing sideways at the detective and smirking with satisfaction at his reaction. Truth be told, he’d been acting like a little shit, lately; going around acting like he was the only one who missed Reese. As understandable as that may have been, Shaw felt that she rightfully deserved some payback.   
Her phone vibrated yet again as she spoke.

This time, the image was quite a bit less conservative. In it, Root sported the same hairstyle and glasses, but a very different outfit. The heels were insanely high stilettos and the skirt was insanely short. It left little to the imagination; of course, Shaw didn’t need the imagination to know every inch of skin the skirt did manage to cover. The top was a blouse that was about three sizes too small for Root’s lanky form and the top buttons were opened to provide a view of the cleavage. Shaw had absolutely no idea how Root had managed it, but she had wrangled her breasts into something tight enough that she appeared to have D cups. In short, it was your basic office slut fantasy.

In the midst of the arousal induced by the picture, Shaw had a moment of panic. She didn’t think Root would actually wear this as a disguise, but sometimes you just couldn’t tell with her.

“Root?” Shaw questioned, worry at the edges of her voice. The hacker picked up on it immediately.

“Relax, Sameen. That was just for your eyes.”

Shaw breathed out a sigh of relief, then added, “Don’t forget hands.” Surprised when she didn’t hear a disgruntled comment out of Fusco, she looked over to find that he was watching the street with binoculars to his eyes and an earbud in his remaining ear. She could just make out the sounds of AC/DC blasting from the ear bud.

“Lionel…” She shook his arm. “We’re done now. You can relax.”

He glowered at her in response, pulling the earbud out and lowering the binoculars. “You know, I’m happy for you, Shaw. Don’t get me wrong…”  
“But…?” She watched the detective intently. He looked as if he was struggling to find the right way to convey a feeling that maybe he couldn’t even name; grasping at thoughts that weren’t quite in front of him yet. He looked lost, angry, alone. 

“There was a time when stakeouts used to be a lot quieter. Now, if I’m not listenin’ to Glasses and his opera stuff, I gotta listen to you and Coco Puffs getting each other hot and bothered. I...I just…Sometimes I just miss the quiet, y’know?” 

She did know.

Shaw was surprised when there was no overt accusation or hostility in Lionel’s tone. It was the most civil—no—the most honest he’d really been with her in a while. She knew he really meant to say that he missed the quiet efficiency that was John Reese, and before that, Joss Carter. She did too. Even months after stepping into his shoes, there were times that Shaw still felt like a bit of an imposter, but life goes on.

She knew.

“Yeah, I know.” She responded, looking at him with more sympathy and understanding than he’d ever seen in her hardened gaze. 

He didn’t want to blame her. He didn’t want to be angry with her; truly, he didn’t, but being around Shaw, seeing her understand his feelings so precisely stirred something deep in the parts of him that were still tainted. Something cold and angry. Something that made him feel that he didn’t want to be understood or cared for. 

What right did she have?

She was with John before he died. If she’d tried hard enough to save him, he might still be alive. He might still be sitting here next to Lionel, the pair of them sitting in solitude as they stakeout a suspect. 

“What do you know?” He hissed, his expression darkening. 

Shaw rolled her eyes, recognizing his change in mood. It meant she was about to become his own emotional punching bag yet again. Fuck that. She looked him straight in the eye with a perfectly neutral expression perched on her face and proceeded to answer the question.

“I know you still keep a mini bottle of bourbon in your desk, and a flask of whiskey in your coat that you take a pull from when you think no one’s looking. I know you act tough on the job, but you never got over Carter before John died—“

“Shut the hell up, Sameen!” 

“But he was just the straw that broke the camel’s back, wasn’t he?” Shaw didn’t pause to let Fusco answer the rhetorical question, continuing her stream of thoughts amid protests from the detective. “I know you don’t sleep well at night—the bags under your eyes give you away. And I know you blame me for what happened.”

“Your damn right, I blame you!” Fusco spat with a venom that surprised even Shaw. There was complete silence in the car for a moment as they stared each other down. Every argument, every hostile remark, and every light moment they ever shared spilled out into the car and lingered between them. That silence was Lee’s rescue, the fight in his apartment the night he was too drunk to remember, Persian New Year, the stock exchange, and this moment here.

Shaw had one more thing left to say, and the sympathy and understanding returned to her expression as she did. “I know you wish it was you; we all do. But Lionel, you know me. You have to know if there was anything I could’ve done, I would have.” Shaw wasn’t so sure of that last part. She had questioned a few times herself whether or not there was truly nothing she could’ve done.

For his part, Lionel was reminded of the lengths she had gone to to save his son; her unhesitant sacrifice at the stock exchange that kept them all alive. He knew it then. He had always known it, he was just being selfish. Shaw held no blame. It might be a while before he could drag himself out of his funk, but he needed to stop taking it out on her.

At least…he knew that in his head; his stubborn pride wouldn’t allow it just yet. The most he could muster in response was a begrudging mutter of “Yeah, whatever.” Shaw rolled her eyes and let out an exasperated breath, but her attention was drawn to something outside the car before she could say anything more on the subject.

“Hey. Lionel, do you see what I see?” She tilted her chin toward the group of men coming down the sidewalk toward the jewelry store.  
The first thing that caught Fusco’s attention was the tattoos—gang tattoos specifically. Each of the eight men had a visible assortment of tattoos with different meanings in the criminal underworld. 

Not good.

The second thing he noticed was probably the very detail Shaw had honed in on. Several of the men had a very conspicuous bulge under their shirts at the waist line. Fusco suspected they all were carrying, but only a few were noticeable from their point of view.

“I do.”

Shaw reached over for the door handle, a look of eager anticipation on her features. 

“Let’s go then.”

\-------------------------------------------------------

After a brief discussion over what to do with the Gen and Gabriel, it was decided that Root would take them back when she went on her over cover assignment. They would’ve been bored down in the subway with Harold and all three of the adults felt it would be best to have them where they could be safely watched. Obviously, since Shaw would be busy with an assignment, Root was left as the logical choice. 

That’s how the three came to be sitting in a car together making the drive back upstate yet again.

“Root.” Gen spoke, breaking the silence that had been settled over the car for a while. She was curious about this woman; just as she had been curious about Shaw when they first met. Root was very different, but like Shaw, Gen didn’t quite know what to make of her. “That’s an odd name.”  
Root chuckled lightly, not taking her eyes off the road. “It’s complicated.”

Gen sensed that it was a subject the hacker didn’t really care to discuss openly at this point. For his part, Gabriel had little interest in the small talk between the two women. He already knew plenty about team machine thanks to the information he’d been gifted by Samaritan while the AI was still active. His main interest was in his computers, and after that, in his new friend. But she was otherwise occupied with trying to learn more about the woman behind the wheel.

“And…what about Shaw?” Gen questioned after a few moments.

“She’s complicated too.” Root answered coyly.

The young spy smiled slightly at her vague, yet accurate response to the question.

“That’s not what I mean.” Gen prodded. “You and Shaw seem…close.”

Root glanced over to the passenger seat with a mildly surprised gaze. “An astute observation…” She wasn’t quite sure where this line of questioning was going. Furthermore, she wasn’t sure she was comfortable discussing an adult relationship with a keenly observant twelve year old who already seemed to know far too much for her age. 

“And?”

Luckily, the young girl seemed to pick up on her hesitance and had decided to spare her the awkwardness.  
“I don’t mean to pry.” Gen rushed, holding her hands up defensively. “It’s just…Shaw seems different—happy.”

Root looked at her curiously for a few moments; long enough to make the girl uneasy about the lack of attention being paid to the road. It was only when she elaborated that the hacker turned her attention back to the traffic in front of her.

“If that’s because of you—If Shaw likes you, that’s good enough for me.” Gen spoke approvingly and Root’s lips curled upwards as she watched the road.

There was a lot that they had to learn about each other, but they’d found one piece of common ground.  
“Likewise, kiddo.” Root smiled over at the young girl.

From his place in the back seat, Gabriel gagged internally. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate this bonding. It was just that he never had been great with emotions, preferring to avoid such situations as this whenever possible. He cleared his throat a bit before speaking up.

“Not that this isn’t a touching moment, but when are we getting back?”

“Gabe!” Gen chided

Root chuckled at the boy’s bluntness, taking in the display of bickering that ensued between the two young prodigies; she didn’t miss the familiarity with which Gen addressed Gabriel. Silently, she wondered just how long this friendship of theirs had been going on. A lengthy friendship certainly raised the possibility that they had time to discover about what they were involved with than they let on. She brushed the thought aside for the moment and let the bickering continue for a while longer before speaking up with amusement.

“Alright, alright; that’s enough. We should be there in half an hour, Gabriel.”

It was a while later down in the subway and Finch was still hard at work.

With the exception of Bear, he was still left alone to his work. Shaw had yet to return despite having dealt with the immediate threat to the jeweler and Root would not be back for some time. That left him to his own devices, sifting through the information on Gabriel’s flash drive and listening to Gen’s recordings.

There was quite a bit of information.

Apparently, the kids had been just a tad misleading about the scope of their informational probing--they had compiled information on just about every member of the staff. Naturally, Harold had found quite a bit of…interesting…tidbits. Trivial information , really. Office gossip: whose sleeping with who, who’s had plastic surgery, which kids have the richest parents. Nothing that would point to a potential threat.  
Soon enough, he did find something.

There were a few interesting illusions to the secretary that Gen had mentioned: Gossip about how she was “rolling in money” and conjecture about how she got it. Harold’s eyebrow raised in interest when he read more in Gabriel’s compiled information. There was a reference in a couple of her text conversations to stolen diamonds.

An internet search shed a bit more light on the situation and Finch sat staring at his monitor with widened eyes. Instinct had proven correct.  
This situation was more precarious than originally thought.

“Oh, dear.”   
\------------------------------------------------------  
There’s 3! Thank you so much for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Root continues her undercover work as the threat to the latest number shows himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! I got a little bit tied up. Also, I hope to make the next chapter longer. Anyway, thanks for reading. Reviews are love!

I’m back! Hope you like this next chapter; there’s a shitstorm on the horizon! Anyway, R & R as always!  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Ch. 4:

Two days ago…

The Cote d’Ivoire was peaceful this evening. 

There was only the faintest of breezes in the air. It caressed the waters and stirred them just so, creating slight ripples on the otherwise calm surface. That gentle wind helped the tide to gently carry the waves to shore, passing languidly over the white beaches of the coast with each pull inward and outward. It was a picture of serenity completed by the lush greenery that lined the beaches and by the soft sounds of the night life. Various species of primate and bird could be heard singing their song into the night air.

The only disturbance in this picture was the seemingly insignificant conversation taking place on an isolated beach front.

Amid the sounds of wildlife and gently rolling waves, there was a small bungalow. Its bamboo structure was modest in appearance, bearing a charm that added to the picturesque scenery of the coast. Inside the small structure was a slightly different story.

Two Akaan men sat in conversation at a small table that was no bigger than a coffee table. The older of the two was donned in a white leisure suit. His manner of speaking made it clear that he was the superior of the two men. The younger, dressed in a black sport coat over a blue dress shirt and black slacks, had a more casual manner about him. Despite the older man’s lecture, it was apparent that he was still relatively serene.  
The older man brought a glass of Vodka to his lips, his eyebrows furrowing in muted frustration at his colleague. His voice was deep and left little room for persuasion or argument as he spoke. “I grow tired of your games, Manso.” He stared deeply into the younger man’s face, driving his point home in the same way he was driving his glass of liquor into the table. “Get these diamonds sold…or I’ll find someone who will.” The tone made it clear exactly what it was that he was subtly implying and he fixed his colleague with a pointed look just for good measure.

“In due time.” There was confidence in Manso’s voice and he remained thoroughly unrattled by the death threat from his boss. His lips curled into a smile that was as self-assured as his voice and he too reached for his own glass. “It’s not easy to find someone who wants to deal in blood diamonds.” He tipped his drink slightly toward the older man at the slight look of commiseration he received. “As it happens, I am looking into a possible buyer, as we speak.”

Some of the tension left the older man’s body and he appeared satisfied on that matter. They conversed amicable over various minute subjects for the next several minutes before circling back to business. Again, the older man appeared a bit less than pleased when the subject of a fence for their goods came up.

“I heard you’ve chosen someone to appraise the merchandise?”

“That’s correct.” Manso smirked. He appeared as if he had every angle worked out and was just content to sit back and watch the pieces of his plan fall into place. This attitude was largely the reason why he indulged the hot-headed tendencies of his more detail oriented boss.  
“And a mere boarding school secretary, at that.”

The younger man sighed patiently, reaching into his coat for a cigar. “We’ve been over this, brother.” He continued to smirk around the edges of the cigar in his mouth as he burned the tip and took the first puff. His boss looked upon the display with impatience, lightly slapping an open palm down on the table in frustration. “And yet, I still don’t understand why you continue to use outsiders in our affairs.”

By “outsiders” he meant people outside of the black market diamond trade. Manso had a habit of turning to such people for various needs, much to the irritation of the man sitting across from him.

There was a barely audible mutter of “clearly”, so quiet that the older man dismissed it, not even sure he’d actually heard anything before Manso was back to looking at him with that same confident expression. He was quite literally blowing smoke as he responded “I use them because they distance us from the eyes of the law.” He let his point sink in a bit further before adding, “And you know I always take care of loose ends.”  
“And when were you planning on putting this plan of yours in motion, Manso?”

“Soon,” He shook his head with a kind of tired amusement at the older man’s fretful nature. “I leave for New York in three days to make the arrangements.” With a clap of his hands, a pair of servants were moving from the kitchen of the Bungalow with two platters of food.  
“Relax, brother.” He smiled as the plates were set down on the table in front of either man. “Eat, drink, don’t worry so much.” The superior of the two men begrudgingly stopped the protest that threatened to spill from his lips again when his protégé casually raised a silencing hand.

“It’s all taken care of.”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------

To say Root was bored would’ve been an understatement.

Since arriving back at the school, she had found herself buried underneath stacks of backlogged forms. Even with the ease and swiftness that she was able to work her way around a computer, she still didn’t seem to be making much progress. Had she done a bit more digging into the open spot that The Machine recommended she fill at the school, Root might’ve realized that the previous clerk had been fired for not doing the work.  
At least…that seemed like a reasonable assumption given the amount of backlog she was sifting through as she quietly eavesdropped on the secretary. 

She had yet to glean anything of too much significance from Miss Phoebe Johnson. The most the office chatter revealed was trivial—albeit juicy—gossip that had her quirking a brow or tilting her head in interest. She had heard a bit more than she wanted to of the principal’s “alone time” as well, shuddering with disgust and turning her earpiece off until it was over.

Bluejacking was only slightly more fruitful. Bluejacking Miss Johnson’s phone had shed a small glimmer of light on whatever the woman had gotten herself into with stolen diamonds. It was nothing actionable for the moment—Harold was looking into it. That left Root to continue her charade in this drama pit that was the prep school’s administrative office.

Root was all too happy for the distraction from her mundane activity when her implant buzzed to life and a familiar husky tone was in her ear. “Root.” She felt a goofy smile stretch across her lips as Sameen’s voice registered in her ears…even as she spotted an office worker approaching her with still more paper work. “Everything all right? You’ve been quiet for a while.”

The smile on her face morphed into a falsely sweet smile as she glanced up at the woman who was adding more to the pile of dead trees in front of her and Shaw knew as Root spoke that her words were not entirely directed at the operative. “Now’s really not a good time, sweetie.”  
“Can’t talk?” Shaw questioned gruffly. Curiosity scratched at the edges of her voice as she made her way into their apartment. 

There was silence on the other end of the line for several seconds. Root waited for the other woman to walk safely out of earshot before speaking again. “Let’s just say it’s been a busy day.” Her voice flowed through Shaw’s earwig and carried with it an uncharacteristically strained qualitied that told Shaw that the hacker was seriously considering the benefits of a little well placed firepower. Her lips curled into a devious smirk at the fleeting thought before her mind wandered to their main concern. The hacker’s sultry voice was in her ear again before she could say anything on the matter.

“To be honest, I’m itching for a little action right about now.”

“You and me both.” Came Shaw’s amused response, though her brow was quirked with interest. Root was certainly no stranger to gun fights. In fact, it was probably fair to say that she had almost as much experience under her belt as John or herself. Despite that, she never seemed to have the genuine lust for violence that Shaw had, so to hear her wish for a fight was unexpected. “Fusco’s been a real drag on stake outs, lately.”  
“You two still not getting along?” Root spoke with a knowing smile.

Shaw simply grunted in response in a way that told Root she didn’t care to dwell on the subject any further while simultaneously speaking volumes to her about the state of that particular situation. She didn’t mind. She knew Sameen would say something to her about it if she needed to. Who she worried about—who they all worried about—was Fusco. He had made progress in his grief in the months since John’s death, but he still wasn’t quite right. And it wasn’t that he and John had been particularly close; that much Root knew. It was the weight of losing someone he saw as his partner and the lingering sense that it could’ve been prevented. A feeling they all still struggled with. But nothing any of them, especially Shaw, could’ve done would’ve changed the outcome.

Reese had been a victim of his own hero complex, plain and simple.

“He’ll come around eventually, Sam.” Root stated, clearing her mind of the gloomy thoughts as she continued her typing.  
Shaw gave no indication that she’d heard the comment, instead opting to address the business at hand as she dumped a few more clips of ammo from her fridge into a bag. “What about the kids?”

“They’re okay, too; at least for the moment. Class is still in session.”

“Good.” Shaw smirked. “By the way, you should know that your secretary’s number officially came up before I left the batcave earlier.”  
A knowing smile lit up the hacker’s face. “Hmm, I heard.” The breathy sing-song quality of her voice told Shaw that the little birdy had been the machine whispering in her ear. “It’s not exactly a surprise; we still don’t know the who and why, though.”

“Actually…” Finch’s voice flowed over the comms and both women listened intently. “I believe I may be able to answer both questions.”   
Silence settled in over the comm system for a moment while Finch typed in a command into his computer and then pulled out his cell phone. A moment later, Root and Shaw’s phones buzzed simultaneously.

“…Who is this?” Came the gruff question from the former operative.

“Kofi Manso.” At Finch’s feet, Bear whined. He pawed persistently at the man’s expensive Italian shoes until Finch turned to find the dog looking at him with pleading eyes and then over to the desk. Finch sharply denied Bear’s request once he realized what he wanted…treats. 

“One of the conversations you recovered from Ms. Johnson’s cell phone belongs to a burner; I was able to trace it back to him. That’s not all: It seems they’ve been in touch with each other for some time now.”

“And, who exactly is he?” Root questioned

Again, Bear began to whine at Harold’s feet and scratch softly at his chair, unhappy at being ignored. Once again, Harold commanded him to cease and he retreated away from the desk a couple feet to find interest in a new chew toy in the form of a stuffed duck. 

“He’s an elite member of one of Africa’s most prominent illegal diamond mining operations operating out of Cote d’Ivoire.” His eyes drifted to Bear, who was again looking at the jar of treats on the desk with longing in his canine eyes. Harold relented and reached for the jar as he spoke. “And, may I add, Ms. Shaw, you might consider cutting back on Bear’s treats just a tad.”

There was an audible grunt over the comm line and Root and Finch could perfectly picture the accompanying eye roll in their minds before Shaw’s voice was in their ears. “Yeah, whatever. So, I guess it’s too much to hope that the text about stolen diamonds was sent to this guy.” 

Shaw was confident of the answer even before Finch said anything. In her experience, nothing made a number pop up quicker than some poor, stupid SOB trying to screw over a criminal organization. Finch seemed to agree, speaking as Shaw locked her door and stalked back down the hallway. “Indeed. Those particular messages were sent to a third party. I’ve yet to figure out an identity.” Harold paused in thought before an idea struck him. “Miss Johnson did work as a fence in the city for some time prior to her current position…perhaps your jeweler friend could be of some help in that area, Miss Shaw.”

“On it.” Shaw acknowledged, changing direction to catch public transit back to the dingy little motel where she and Fusco had stashed the jeweler. She tapped at her earwig as she went, leaving Finch and Root on the line with each other.

With nothing more to say for the moment, they both went back to their work. Root begrudgingly resumed her typing and could faintly hear the sounds of Finch doing the same until her phone buzzed next to her. She picked it up and swiped at the screen as her eyes swept over the message she’d intercepted from her number. She looked up sharply to see the secretary with her phone in front of her, clearly texting someone.  
“Looks like I’m about to meet our diamond peddler, Harold.” 

“Are you sure you’ll be alright, Miss Groves?” 

There was concern in Harold’s voice and she understood on some level where the extra caution was coming from, yet she found herself taken aback by his question. Her brows knit themselves together in mild surprise as she answered him confidently.

“Of course.”

A few minutes passed before there was any sort of excitement. The secretary eventually left her desk and Root kept a sharp but subtle eye on her as she walked out of the office. She waited several moments before leaving the office, herself, relying on The Machine’s instructions to wind her way down the hallways until she was guided outside where she spotted Phoebe approaching Manso.

It surprised her that they would choose to meet at the school, yet there was a certain sense to it. No one would expect a criminal organization to conduct business out of a school. At any rate, she kept her distance, staying just far enough away not to be noticed, yet close enough to intervene if needed. The Machine aided her by amplifying the dialogue exchanged between the two.

Root continued to watch as Manso pulled out a discreet looking black case—no doubt it contained the blood diamonds alluded to in Phoebe’s phone conversations. He popped open the snaps to reveal a case full of compressed carbon. He passed one of the diamonds to Phoebe and watched intently as she looked it over. It was clear to Root that this wasn’t the official meeting—there was no way that the woman would accurately be able to tell how much the diamonds were worth without proper equipment to examine them more thoroughly. She guessed the purpose of this meeting was simply to show the merchandise.

Eventually, Kofi allowed the secretary to put the diamond back in the case and Root’s eyes widened in surprise at what happened next. It was a movement so smooth she wasn’t sure she’d even seen it until The Machine confirmed it in her ear, and she doubted that Shaw could’ve pulled it off that well, herself.

She had just watched her number discreetly swipe a few blood diamonds from the briefcase right under Manso’s nose.

Impressive.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gen and Gabriel get caught spying on Root. Meanwhile, Shaw has trouble with a biker gang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome to Chapter 5! I own absolutely no part of Person of Interest. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Ch. 5:

Root stuck around for a while longer to keep watch over the rest of the conversation. As she discreetly hugged her body to the wall of the school building, she reviewed the situation in her mind, questioning certain aspects. It certainly seemed that the brazen—or foolish, depending how you looked at it—woman had managed to sneak a few diamonds from the Akaan man without him noticing. Information gleaned from the team’s spying, as well as their familiar body language around each other also seemed to indicate that this was not the first time these two had worked together, and likely not the first time the secretary had stolen a few diamonds judging by her expensive taste in clothing and transportation.

Root supposed it was possible that she could’ve been receiving exorbitant payment for her involvement with the diamond mining ring. She found it more plausible that the pocketed diamonds were, in fact, contributing to Ms. Johnson’s bank account. The fact that she seemed to have made a point to keep the man away from her car only furthered Root’s suspicion. From the looks of things, Manso was more suspicious than he let on, as well. 

Anyone else might’ve missed it; might’ve assumed the appraising looks to be simply a case of a man appreciating an attractive woman. Root knew that the way his keen eye periodically swept over the number’s body was something else. He had taken note of her high dollar clothing that contrasted sharply with her salary.

It appeared that he had opted to dismiss whatever had captured his attention…at least for the moment. Root lingered just a bit longer in her place to watch the blonde woman reenter the school and make sure that the African didn’t decide to return.   
There was the issue now of what to do with Phoebe. Root wasn’t quite sure the threat was imminent enough to warrant revealing herself just yet. On the other hand, she didn’t have the time to indulge in a lengthy undercover stint here at the school; she feared her patience couldn’t tolerate much more paperwork.

The Machine whispered in her ear after she’d deliberated a bit and she tilted her head to the right as she carefully took in the instructions. Apparently, She believed the number would not be safe without immediate intervention.

“You’re the boss.” Root grinned, turning on her heel and heading back toward the nearest door. 

She stopped short just as she stepped into the building. It could’ve been her imagination, but Root could swear that she’d heard the shuffling of feet when she opened the door. She looked down at her watch to check the time and noted that classes should still be going on. There shouldn’t be anyone in the hallway right now.

She retrieved Shaw’s borrowed nano from the small of her back and stepped cautiously down the hallway. She stepped up to a corner and heard hushed whispers, smirking when she thought she recognized the voices. When she turned the corner, she caught a glimpse of a frizzy head of hair ducking into a janitor’s closet and the corners of her mouth reached even wider across her face.

Root put the gun away behind her back and stepped quietly toward the door, being extra cautious not to give herself away. When she opened the door, she quickly stepped back as a familiar pair of kids tumbled out of the closet in a way that suggested they’d been leaning against the door trying to hear.

“I told you she’d catch us.” Gabriel muttered as he picked himself up off the floor and dusted himself off. The comment earned him a pointed, yet playful glare from Gen and an indignant response. “Don’t act like it wasn’t your idea, Gabe.” 

He simply shrugged and looked at the spy with an ever so slight crook of his lips, lightening his normally sullen features. “And that’s why it’s called shifting the blame.”

Root watched on in amusement. She allowed the playful bickering to continue for a bit before she interjected. “Don’t you two have some place to be?” She asked sweetly.

“We were there.” Gabriel huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. Root couldn’t help but think of how alarmingly similar the gesture was to something Shaw would do. “It was boring.” In fact, it had struck her more than a couple times since seeing these two together that they were essentially miniature versions of herself and Shaw.

She chuckled a bit at Gabriel’s reasoning and turned to Gen, who stood bouncing a bit on the balls of her feet to burn nervous energy. She had her eyes downcast as if she expected a lecture from Root, and she wasn’t entirely wrong. “Gen…” Root spoke in a voice that was kind yet carried an edge of strictness with it. Slowly, sheepishly, Gen’s eyes lifted to meet Root’s.

“What do you think Shaw would have to say about you skipping your classes?”

Gen looked perplexed by the question for a moment. She imagined that if it were up to Shaw, she wouldn’t even be at a boarding school and she’d be learning the ins and outs of fighting and spying every day. Surely this woman would know that.

“I’m not sure Shaw would care…” Gen spoke slowly, her befuddlement evident in her voice. Root understood where the statement was coming from and was inclined to agree to a certain extent. Shaw wasn’t the type of person to tolerate things she found boring unless a mission demanded it. Still, Root imagined that Shaw might care what Gen and Gabriel did given that danger was so close.

“Normally I’m sure you’d be right, but it’s not safe for you to be snooping around school during classes right now.”

“About that…” Gen’s voice trailed off innocently as her eyes rolled around the hallway before settling on a bank of lockers just over Root’s shoulder. The whole display gave Root several ideas about what exactly was left off of the end of the girl’s sentence; none of them were good. She felt a surge of protective irritation toward the duo as she realized they had likely seen much more than they should have.

Root narrowed her eyes as she looked between Gabriel and Gen, her arms crossing themselves over her chest of their own accord. “And…just how long have you two been following me, exactly?” There was still a measure of patience to the question, but her tone was just stern enough to convey the seriousness of the situation. Gen and Gabriel knew that her sweet façade would have its limits if they tested her.

“We may or may not have followed you outside.” Gabe answered vaguely in his own aloof manner, still treating this as if it wasn’t a problem. Gen was elbowing him in the side and chiding him before Root could speak; she already learned the hard way what happened when valuable information was withheld from Shaw and her cohorts. She fixed Root with a pointed glance and spoke flatly. “We put a put a tracker on that African guy’s car.”

Root’s mind lost all immediate thought and she felt her jaw go slack as she was hit with the weight of Gen’s rather blunt admission.  
“Come again?” At her falsely saccharin tone, Gabriel’s gaze turned sharply to her while Gen cringed slightly. A slight scowl flickered across Root’s face when The Machine saw fit to play back Gen’s words in her ear in an apparent act of sarcasm.

“Wow…this is a first; you’ve left me speechless, kids.” 

Both kids looked curiously up at the hacker having been expecting more hostility. Then again, they weren’t dealing with a person of conventional social behaviors. They watched as she swung her hands palms up in a defeated manner, unsettled and awaiting the angry reaction that they were sure was coming.

“I mean…I don’t know if I should be impressed or angry.” Her breath came out in a short, breathy chuckle as her gaze continued to bore into them . “At least tell me the tracker can’t be reverse traced back to you.”

Immediately, Gen’s eyes drifted back to the floor and she suddenly found the cracks between the tiles rather interesting.   
It was all the answer Root needed. 

Much to the pair’s surprise, she shook her head and shrugged off the mounting frustration. The Machine had given her a task and she needed to get to work on it. Plus, she figured Shaw would be pissed enough for all of them at this carelessness on the kids’ part. “No matter. Now, here’s what we’re go…”

She was cut off by Harold’s voice in her ear.

“Ms. Groves? I trust the meeting went well?”

“It was enlightening, to say the least. I was able to confirm our theory.” She spoke vaguely with a glance in the direction of Gen and Gabriel. They already knew too much; she wasn’t comfortable with openly talking business in front of them. Harold seemed to sense what was on her mind because he was prodding her for information when he spoke again.

“Indeed. I trust that isn’t the only development on your end.” 

She smirked at the way he sounded far too knowing. “And how would you know that, Harold?”

“I received two more numbers. I’m sure you can guess who those numbers belong to.”

“I can.” She spoke lowly, looking again at the kids with a pointed withering expression. Then, as quickly as it had come, it was gone. Back was the casual manner and the airy way she had of speaking. To Gen it seemed like Shaw might’ve rubbed off on her a bit. “Anyway, I have some business to attend to, Harold.”

“You’re bringing the secretary back with you.”

It was more of a statement than a question, but Root answered, regardless.

“Yes.” And almost as an afterthought, she added, “And by the way, Harold, I hope the safe house is stocked.”

With that, she ended the transmission and turned back to the kids, ushering them to move. While she was speaking to Finch, The Machine had already told her where they should be, so she headed off in the direction of their respective classrooms without another word. Their protests fell on deaf ears.

Root saved Gabriel’s classroom for last, heaving a sigh as they came to a stop and she pulled him to the side. They had forged a mutual respect and understanding in the wake of her abduction. She knew well where this reckless attitude was coming from, and knew it would likely continue. Still, she felt a weight of responsibility for the boy sitting on her shoulders and was compelled to do something to correct him.

“Look,” That confident look he had met hers expectantly as she spoke and she felt as if she was looking at a young version of herself. “I know you’re a genius, and a gifted hacker. Hell,” Root tossed her head to one side, “You might even be better with a computer than I was at your age.”

Gabriel continued to watch her appraisingly, sensing that there was more to her speech. He felt a bit irritated that she deigned to lecture him when he knew well the things she’d done when she wasn’t much older than him. “But?”

“You need to be careful, Gabriel.”

Root acquiesced a bit under the withering gaze she received in response from the boy.

“I know, I know…pots and kettles.” She smiled, looking wistfully at the wall just behind him at the memory of some of her past escapades before fixing him with a more serious expression. “I was lucky, though. I was young, reckless, and lucky.”

“Why are you telling me this, Root?” Gabriel questioned rather impatiently.

Shaw will raise hell if Gen gets in trouble.

“Because it only takes one careless mistake to lead some very dangerous people back to you. I know you have that whole youthful invincibility complex going on for you, but that’ll get you killed.” She pointed down the hallway towards Gen’s classroom, “And people you care about killed if you let it.”

Gabriel’s simple response was an understanding nod after a few moments of contemplation and Root knew that was the most she would get from him. She waved off into his classroom before turning on her heel and heading back toward the office. A smile spread across her face as she walked. 

Aside from the matter of the tracker being traceable, the kids had been impressive today. They managed to slip unnoticed past three adults and put the GPS tracking device on Manso’s vehicle. Not even The Machine had detected them. 

If She had, She didn’t tell.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------  
As it turned out, the jeweler Shaw and Fusco had helped that morning had been able to provide a new lead. Shaw had just finished her questioning when bullets started flying, sending the man cowering behind a crappy little couch in the small motel room and Shaw springing into action. She was impressed that he’d already managed to land himself back in hot water as she weaved in and out of the line of fire, catching a glimpse of some pretty nice motorcycles through the thin curtains over one of the windows.

That was how she’d come to find herself engaged in a firefight with a particularly sizeable group of relentless and pissed off Hell’s Angels goons. 

She ducked a bullet aimed for her head through one of the windows as it ricocheted off the fridge she was using as cover. Irritation and adrenaline coursed through Shaw and three of her bullets found new homes in the kneecaps of some of her adversaries before she had to stop to reload. Her mouth pulled back to bare her teeth when the bullets kept rattling against the fridge and she scoffed at the jeweler’s perfect fetal position. 

“You know…this is exactly why we told you to lay low, Craig.”

He only pulled tighter into his ball of safety when stray bullets found the couch a moment later.

Shaw ducked out of cover and popped the offenders with a growl before sliding back behind the fridge. Normally, she would enjoy a good gunfight, but these guys were making her waste the ammo she had only just picked up to take back to the subway. That, and they were distracting her from a bigger issue.

A scowl formed on Shaw’s face at the thought that she’d wasted a trip across the city in early afternoon traffic.   
Just when her irritation with the bikers reached its tipping point, it diminished a bit at the familiar purr in her ear. “How’s my favorite ex-government assassin?”

On her end, Root wore the flirtatious grin that was her trademark. She then froze in fear at the sound of gunfire before the smile made its way back at the sound of Shaw’s voice. 

“Honestly,” Shaw dodged another bullet aimed for her head only to grunt at the burning pain of a graze to her left arm. “I’m…a little busy here, Root.”

Shaw angrily plugged the man responsible for her graze in the stomach, leaving him groaning in a growing pool of his own blood.  
“What’s the matter, Sameen?” Root pouted. “You can’t multitask?”

A devious smirk grew on Shaw’s face as she emptied her clip at the bikers. “Oh, you know damn well I can multitask.” Root’s heart sped up a bit at the unusual suggestive quality in Shaw’s tone. As if proving her point, Shaw ducked down into cover and snapped a fresh clip into her H & K, firing the occasional suppression fire as she checked her remaining clips. She frowned at her findings.  
“Anyway, not that I don’t enjoy our banter, but could you get to the point Root?” Shaw asked rhetorically through gritted teeth, once again engaging the bikers. “I’m running low on ammo and these guys are persistent.”

She knew something drastic would need to be done soon. Not that she was much for classic literature, but this situation was beginning to resemble the gunfight version of Hercules vs. the Lernean Hydra. For every one man she took down, it seemed like three or four more took his place.

Root would be lying if she said she wasn’t at least a little bit anxious, but she knew Shaw well enough to know that she was still confident in her odds. That frustrated, irritable way of speaking meant she was only just getting ticked off. Root almost felt sorry for the poor bikers who would soon know fully what it meant to be on Sameen Shaw’s shit list. Almost.

“Just checking in, Honey.” The pet name lingered on her tongue as she teased Shaw a bit more, enjoying the last bit of banter that she’d be allowed in this situation. She could almost feel the heat radiating from Shaw’s skin and picture the clenched jaw at the idea that she was being distracted at such a crucial time “just to catch up.” Any retort the shorter woman may have had, however, died in her throat when Root continued to speak. “Oh, and Gen’s going to be staying with us for a bit.” 

Root was careful to hedge around the ‘why’ of that particular equation. She knew that would be a discussion best had when Shaw wasn’t dodging bullets. She simply answered Shaw’s follow up questions with reassurances that everything was alright and that Harold would see to Gabriel. For Gen’s sake, Root just hoped that the bikers she was shooting right now didn’t leave her with too much residual anger.

Ever since being thrust into the role of Harold’s number one, Shaw had become more ‘Shaw’ than usual. She had thrown herself into the protection of the numbers and the team. Root suspected that it was because, contrary to the reassurances of herself and Harold, Shaw did believe she was responsible for Reese’s demise. 

Her morose demeanor following any work she did with Fusco only convinced Root further of that belief.

It came as no surprise when, long after the sun had set and operations had ceased for the evening, after Shaw had given Gen a very firm lecture sent her off to bed, and after she’d dressed her own wound, Root breezed into the apartment to find Shaw sitting on the couch staring contemplatively off into space with a beer clutched in her hand.

She gave no acknowledgement of the taller woman’s presence, but that didn’t deter the hacker from approaching her.

Root’s features softened with empathy as she moved closer, watching the conflict and vulnerability swimming in those perfect brown eyes—eyes that remained guarded to a certain extent around anyone else. Root felt the bitter resentment bubbling inside her chest as keenly as if she herself was feeling it; she couldn’t be entirely certain that she wasn’t. More than that, she felt a nagging ache somewhere inside of her at the mere idea that Sameen held any responsibility for John’s actions. Seeing that idea manifested on the couch in the form of a sullen, brooding Shaw filled her with a pressing need to act.

She might not be able to do anything about Shaw’s self-doubt as a whole, she would have to work that out for herself, but she could certainly do something about the latter issue.

Root moved to the couch to sit, placing a gentle hand on Shaw’s left shoulder as her eyes drifted down to the bandage covering the graze wound on her bicep. She was surprised when Sameen wordlessly lifted the arm and pulled her close, still looking off into space. For all of the progress they’d made in their relationship, physical closeness for the sake of it was something Shaw still struggled with. With that in mind, the simple action she’d just taken—which seemed normal only on its surface—told Root that Shaw was reaching out for comfort in her own way.

She smiled, placing a soft kiss to the crook of Shaw’s neck to make sure her words would be heard.

“He’s not really mad at you….Fusco.” There was a pause as she toyed absently with the bandage on Shaw’s arm, caressing soothing fingers over it and drawing patterns. “At least…not nearly as much as he wants to think.”

Shaw responded with a quirked eye brow and a slight turn of her head in Root’s direction. As if she was silently imploring her to elaborate. And Root did.

“Some people just don’t do sadness well, Sam.” Root smiled humorlessly before aiming a pointed look at the other woman. “I think that’s something we all have in common.” 

Shaw nodded quietly, understanding what Root was trying to say. Not one of their group was capable of expression grief and sadness in a conventional way. Root and Finch had distracted themselves from it, almost refusing to feel it. Shaw herself had turned to violence and become even more protective than she already was. Fusco displayed more self-destructive methods of coping as well as anger, most of it directed at her. Still, the knowledge that he might not blame her didn’t necessarily make her feel better about the situation.

She shrugged, meeting Root’s gaze fully for the first time as Root moved over her to sit in her lap. “Just because he’s projecting doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

The hollow ache in Root’s chest kept her from fully enjoying the hot feeling of Shaw’s palms on her hips and she found herself fighting against the scratching feeling at the corners of her eyes as Shaw continued to speak.   
“I could’ve done something, Root.” 

Root’s hands were travelling up the sides of the body beneath her all the way to Shaw’s face. Her pained eyes fell shut under the hacker’s touch on her cheeks and she felt the beginnings of rare tears being wiped from her eyes before they had the chance to fully show themselves. Her eyes opened again at the breath of “What could you have done?” exhaled against her neck. It sounded just as anguished as her firm statement and a look into Root’s eyes, brimming with unspoken feelings makes it clear what she thinks; makes it clear what she’d heard.

“I could’ve taken his place.” There was no suggestion to her voice, only realization as she took one of Root’s hands and placed it over her heart. She remembered trying to do just that, and though they’ve never talked about it until now, she was keenly aware at the time that Root and Finch were hearing every word.

“Yes, you could have.” Root took a moment to place a lingering kiss onto Shaw’s lips, seeking comfort from their warmth, and giving comfort to Shaw in return. Pulling away, she looked into Shaw’s eyes with a watery version of her usual smile. “Now tell me: If the situations were reversed, do you think John would’ve been able to save you?” Root shivered slightly at the thought, but she had a point to make. She knew she would need to go down that path to make it.

Shaw paused, thinking over it carefully. Root could see it on her face that she wanted to say yes; the defiance was clear. She expected that Shaw would continue to argue, too, but she didn’t expect the bluntness that came after several long moments of silence. There was a short “No.” as their eyes locked, conveying unspoken thoughts with each other. Shaw knew well that she would’ve been every bit as stubborn in John’s situation as he had been, and he likely would’ve been forced to retreat as well. So, while she wasn’t entirely ready to accept that she held no responsibility, Root had made her feel better.

Root dropped her face down so that their foreheads rested against each other and they sat in silence. Each woman dwelled in the feelings and warmth given by the other as their breaths mingled between them for that long expanse of time. Eventually, Root pulled back a bit to look Shaw in the face.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Her smile was playful and her tone was conspiratorial, yet there was a hint of darkness in her gaze that Shaw found curious. She silently raised an eyebrow in response, compelling the hacker to continue.

“I feel bad too.”

When she was met with a frown and a confused gaze, Root elaborated on the statement. 

“When Finch and I…when we heard—“ Root cast her gaze down. There was a pause as she stopped to collect her thoughts, and her feelings. Shaw sensed the apprehension and squeezed Root’s hips encouragingly. The gesture compelled Root to meet Shaw’s gaze again and she brought a hand up to caress the side of Shaw’s face affectionately. To Shaw it seemed almost like Root was back to that day and reassuring herself that they were both still here. 

“When we heard it happen…we thought you were both dead. We thought you were both dead, and all I could think about was you.”   
Shaw listened patiently, watching as Root’s lip quivered with extraneous emotion. Much like Root had done earlier, she reached up to wipe away forming tears with the pads of her thumbs. “Then you came back, without John, and all I felt was happy.”

Root let out a strange sound that could’ve been either a sob or a chuckle and shook her head at the other woman. “I still feel that way now. Yes, it makes me sad that John’s not here, but I can’t help thinking that it could’ve been you.”

For the first time since Root entered the apartment, a smile formed on Shaw’s lips. Root found herself feeling curious at the wry nature of it.

“We really are a mess, aren’t we?” Shaw questioned with a shake of her head. Root had only a moment to think on it before she found herself lapsing into laughter at the mercy of Shaw’s finger tips. The sight and sound of Root laughing on top of her and making futile attempts to get away brought a bought of quiet chuckles from Shaw’s lips.

“We…” Root wheezed against the fits of laughter. “Sameen, we can’t.” Finally, Root grabbed Shaw’s hands and Shaw looked into her eyes, now tearful for a different reason. Root smirked, “Gen.”

Root looked smugly down at Shaw as she stepped off her lap and moved to the kitchen to retrieve a couple more beers. “So, I see you had fun today. Did you manage to get anything useful from your number?”

“Yeah, actually.” Shaw smirked, accepting the beer Root offered before she sat back down on the couch. “Guess who your number’s been selling diamonds to.” Shaw popped the top of her beer off and took a swig. Root looked at her with amusement. She had a feeling that Shaw knew she couldn’t guess. The Machine hadn’t been able to divulge that particular piece of information. “Do tell.”

“Elias.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! Sorry this update is a bit late. My internet was down for a few days. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

It had come up on one in the morning by the time Root and Shaw found their way to the bed. The alcohol in their systems combined with the somber discussion in the living room combined in just the right way to swiftly pull the veil of sleep up over their tired bodies.

They stayed wrapped up in the comfort of each other's warmth for the entire evening, neither woman moving so much as an inch in her sleep.

Shaw woke first, glaring into the early morning beams of sunshine coming in through the windows. Her first thought was that they really needed to invest in blackout curtains. Her time living in the subway and then staying with other agents of The Machine had left her overly sensitive to the sun; something she'd yet to rectify.

Her second thought was to wonder at why she was awake at such an early hour. A look over at the clock on her bedside table told her it was only eight thirty. The smell of breakfast hanging heavy in the air as it teased her grumbling stomach was all the answer to that question that she needed. She tossed the blankets aside and made to stand up when her sleep addled mind finally processed her surroundings and she noticed the lump moving in the bed next her empty spot.

Her brow arched in brief confusion as Root emerged from under the blanket.

If Root wasn't cooking, who was?

Shaw rubbed at her sleepy eyes as she made her way into the kitchen and living area with Root not too far behind. She glanced curiously over at the kitchen to find a familiar figure of short stature busying herself with flipping sausages.

Oh, that's right! Gen stayed over.

"I didn't know you could cook." There was a curiosity in Shaw's tone as she made her way over to the island countertop and snagged a piece of bacon.

"You're forgetting who I used to live with."

Shaw shrugged in concession while she turned her attention to the bits of sausage, bacon, egg, and pancakes that were already finished. She was so preoccupied with drooling over the food that she didn't notice the way Gen would look at her every now and then. It was almost like she was skittish and afraid that a wrong move might incur the older spies temper.

Shaw didn't notice these looks, but they were all too obvious to Root's keen gaze as she hung out of the way slightly.

Most of Shaw's love and affection was aimed at the inanimate: food, fast cars, guns. There were few living beings that Shaw held an open affection for: Bear, Gen, Herself, but Root had come to learn that Bear seemed to be the only living thing Shaw cared about who was exempt from her anger. It was a lesson that Gen had learned last night, as well. The hard way.

Root hadn't been around for the action, but she could imagine it. Shaw's recent overprotective nature had caused her to lash out more than once when she interpreted Harold, Root, or Fusco as doing something detrimental to their safety. Regardless of whose idea it had been, Root knew that there would be consequences for the tracker placed on Kofi Manso's car. She hoped, however, that those consequences would remain limited to Shaw's incurred wrath.

Breakfast was a peaceful affair despite the underlying tension. The three ate in an easy silence with the only sounds being the occasional scrape of silverware across a plate and the noises of appreciation issued from Shaw's throat. Gen marveled at how Shaw could manage to turn something as mundane as eating into an act of violence while Root simply smiled at the familiar display. While she had no doubt in her mind that Shaw's anger from the previous night would be gone by now anyway, the sight in front of her was enough to convince the hacker that Gen had handily won her way back into Shaw's good graces.

The rest of the meal passed uneventfully. Gen was left to her own devices when the two women retreated back to the bedroom to get ready for the day ahead. No doubt Finch would be calling soon if for no other reason than Miss Johnson would be demanding. Root got the distinct impression that she was a high maintenance kind of lady.

Left alone in the living area of the apartment, Gen's natural inclination toward curiosity began to kick in. Shaw never did speak about herself much. From their few conversations, Root seemed only slightly more open despite presenting a more sociable personality than her broody partner…colleague…girlfriend. Whatever they were.

Gen took a look around the apartment, hoping to find some glimpse into the secrets her protectors kept. Unfortunately, it appeared that neither of the women was the particularly sentimental type. Of course, she knew that about Shaw.

The apartment's living area was adorned only with the most necessary pieces of furniture. There was a beige couch on one wall that seemed rather unimpressive and minimalist, and an oak computer desk on the opposite wall next to the door that clashed with the couch. She didn't know a lot about computers, but the set-up on the desk seemed rather impressive. There were also the other little touches; pieces of decor on the wall to make the space appear more inviting. Gen's lips curled into a smile at the meaning of it. The room was a combination of both women. It was minimalist and off-putting, yet somehow charming and inviting.

They were living together.

Her eyes wandered back to the desk and confusion settled in the pit of her stomach as her legs carried her forward. There it was, the one shred of anything that seemed remotely personal, but…Gen couldn't be sure what to make of it.

There was a collage, of sorts, above the desk.

Faces. All of different ages, races, and genders. One was a young brunette girl who couldn't be much older than herself, another was the face of a mousy looking middle-aged Caucasian woman. There were at least three dozen photos, but the young spy could only place two as her eyes drifted over the photos with intrigued attention.

The two photos she could place only made her more curious about the meaning of the photos she was looking at. She had briefly met the detective woman called…Carter…two years previously after the mishap with the Russians and the crooked cops. The other photo was of the man in the suit…John.

Gen was so busy with trying to piece together the pictures on the wall that she didn't even hear the door to the bedroom open. Nor did she hear her name as it was called. A sharply spoken repeat of her name broke through her thoughts and she jumped slightly as she turned around. Shaw looked slightly harried and behind her, Root wore a rather smug expression. The spy imagined whatever she was about to hear had something to do with that.

"I got something to go deal with. You don't mind hanging out here with Root for a while?"

Oh, so that's what it was.

Gen could feel the quirk of her eyebrow trying to meet her hairline and it took a great deal of effort for her to reign in the wry expression. Shaw must've lost an argument.

"No problem."

She noticed that, while Shaw projected the appearance of her normal behavior, she was acting a bit strangely ever since she and Root first got to the school a couple days ago. It was beyond her what, if anything, Root had to do with Shaw's sudden overbearing approach to her safety. Maybe Root would be able to shed some light on that.

Gen's gaze followed Shaw out the door as she made her silent exit.

Not a moment after she was gone, the sound of boots on the hard floor echoed through the apartment as Root stepped closer, watching the girl with a questioning expression. Her mouth widened into a knowing smile when Gen's head turned back to the pictures that she'd been so enthralled with when Shaw and Root had come out of their room.

"Is there something you want to ask?"

Gen felt a sense of wariness at the question; to answer would be to admit that she'd been snooping. A sidelong glance at the older woman leaves her with the sense that Root already knows that, however. Her eyes are fixed to the pictures and they glitter with a look of amusement that Gen has come to realize is nearly perpetual for the hacker, but…

There's something else.

Buried underneath that happy, contended shimmer, there was a darkness. It was something bitter that Gen can't quite place. It draws her in and so she asks her question when she realizes that the pictures seem to be the cause.

"These pictures…I recognize two of them, but…" Gen started, squinting curiously towards the images and Root already knew where the question was heading. "Who are the rest?"

Root had no doubt that the young spy knows far more about what they really do than any of them expect, but she couldn't risk outing Her to a twelve year-old with a knack for trouble, so she settled on a safer answer as she looked at the lost numbers on the wall.

"These are the people we've lost…in our line of work."

The bitterness in Root's demeanor rose to the surface at the words, and Gen looked between her and the pictures. Something clicked in her mind when her eyes pass over the man in the suit again. She had gathered that he was dead, but only now do the pieces fully click into place.

"And this man…" She gestured to his photograph. "John." Then she looked into Root's sad eyes and it became apparent that she had hoped Gen wouldn't pry, though she wouldn't verbalize that discomfort. "It hasn't been long, has it?"

"No."

"That's why you all seem a bit on edge, then?" Root watched Gen's skittish demeanor from that morning return; as if she's unsure how far to delve on the issue, but the woman said nothing to stop the words that continued to flow from the young girl's mouth.

"Shaw's always been on the protective side, but she never cared before when I almost got myself in trouble…at least not enough to get mad."

Gen felt the sympathetic smile as it bored into her, soaking her more than any kind of liquid. Then, Root's sweet tone was in her ear.

"That may be, but…" She paused, thinking about how best to phrase the words tumbling around in her head and Gen quirked an eyebrow, compelling her to finish her statement. "She's…never been the conventional type—I'm sure you know that."

The girl nodded in understanding as her mind drifted back to her own words on the day she had given Shaw her Order of Lenin medal. There was normal caring, and then there was Shaw's caring…emotionally stunted as it could be. She had blazed a path of violence all across New York City once just to rescue Gen and she'd done it because she cared. Gen never considered until now what Shaw might be like were she to lose someone that she felt a sense of responsibility for.

Root seemed to pick up on that thought and a knowing expression stretched across the span of her face.

"You see, protection is one of the biggest ways that someone like Shaw can show that she cares." Root winked, "If she seems a bit over protective, just take it as a compliment."

 

Shaw arrived at the safe house to find Harold standing outside of a door appearing rather flustered as he attempted to reason with the woman on the other side. From the sounds of things, Shaw gathered that he had been forced to lock her inside the bathroom, and she seemed none too pleased about it.

"What's the matter, Finch? She too much woman for ya?"

Finch looked up when he registered Shaw's teasing tone and his shoulders fell with relief as he looked at her imploringly. "Ms. Shaw…do you mind?" He asked in a harried manner that hinted to her that he'd been struggling for some time before he'd opted to call her.

A spark of deviousness made its way into the assassin's eyes and there was a confident smirk on her lips as she answered Harold in the affirmative. She put a hand on her weapon and headed for the door, but stopped short and turned to face the flustered man.

"Harold…If you're here…."

Finch waved off her concern, "Don't worry, Ms. Shaw. He's being tended to, I assure you."

Shaw let the information sink in for a moment and then continued her task with a shrug. The angry shrieking and pounding stopped abruptly and was replaced with a shriek as Shaw forced the door open and sent the highly strung blonde secretary falling back onto her rear end.

"How rude!" The woman huffed indignantly. She watched through narrowed eyes as the door was slammed shut once again. This time, she did take note of the serious demeanor of the woman standing above her. The rigid posture and broody features would've warned anyone else that Shaw was not someone to be trifled with, but Phoebe was a bit more bold.

Shaw completely ignored her protests.

"Sorry," She spoke in a tone that was anything but apologetic. "But I'm not the polite type." Then she gestured toward the door behind her with a flick of her head. "He's the polite one."

"Now," Shaw's voice dropped to a low rasp and she squatted down to the other woman's level, brandishing her sidearm ever so slightly. Phoebe's eyes widened noticeably at the side, but she said nothing. "You gonna behave yourself?"

The question seemed to push a button for the feisty blonde. She was back to being fired up almost instantly. Shaw took a deep, calming breath and rolled her eyes at the display.

"You don't understand!" She complained, "I have to get to my meeting!"

Shaw let out a growl, having reached the end of her patience.

"No. You don't understand, lady." Shaw's voice was dangerously low, and her teeth were bared in frustration. The display was enough to make the other woman stop, but Shaw wasn't done yet. "You're not in position to argue here." For good measure, the assassin drew her H & K and racked the slide, drawing a bout of panic from the other woman. "You don't have a meeting. That man you've been meeting with knows what you're up to. You're good, but you weren't good enough." There was a slightly menacing smirk on Shaw's face that betrayed a trace of disappointment. "You made a rookie mistake and got too comfortable; you let yourself get sloppy like an amateur."

Phoebe looked greatly affronted at Shaw's words. She looked ready to argue again, but Shaw silenced her with a shake of her head punctuated with a wave of her gun. Her voice was firm and final as she spoke for the last time. "Stay. Stay in the apartment, or I'll shoot you myself."

She left the nervous woman with a cheeky smirk before turning on her heel and exiting the bathroom. Finch was waiting on the other side. He looked at her a bit apprehensively, perhaps debating whether or not to question her methods. "Don't you think that might've been just a tad too aggressive, Ms. Shaw?"

She shrugged dismissively, pocketing her sidearm. "It worked, didn't it? Besides, I'm a hammer, remember?" There was a playful smirk on her lips as she met his stern gaze, and he relented after a moment, knowing that it wasn't worth the battle.

"Indeed."

"So, how are we gonna handle the meeting? Keeping her locked up here doesn't exactly eliminate the threat. If anything, he'll be even more pissed if she's a no show."

"That's true." Harold conceded. "Mr. Manso very well may assume that she's fled with her spoils." They both thought over the situation in silence for several lengthy moments before Harold continued his train of thought. "On the other hand, we are fairly certain that he is already aware of Miss Johnson's activities. Given that, he could be planning to dispose of her at the meeting."

Shaw fidgeted with impatience as she waited for Harold to finish thinking out loud. She'd already ascertained most of what he was stating and was itching to reach a solution to the issue.

"So…? What are we going to do?" Shaw questioned slowly after Finch had finished his musings. He fixed her with an apprehensive gaze; the kind she knew all too well. He didn't like what he was about to say, and that meant that there was a good chance she wouldn't either.

"What?" Her eyes narrowed slightly.

"Well…" Finch drawled out hesitantly, shrinking a bit under Shaw's withering glare. "There is one option."

"Go on."

"As it happens, I've got quite a bit of experience with rare diamonds. I—" Shaw cut him off firmly before he could speak any further.

"No."

Harold sighed. He knew this wasn't a plan she would be easily swayed into. Granted, it wasn't ideal, but it was the best option he could come up with.

"Listen, Ms. Shaw—"

"No, Harold." She looked at him sternly, both of them stood their ground in their brief staring contest before Shaw continued to talk. "There's no way to guarantee your safety."

"And what if you were there to provide assistance?" Finch argued. "I've surveyed the meeting location on the map. I'm certain that it's a location well suited for snipers."

"What if the Africans have their own sniper?" Shaw countered. "What if I can't take him out before he shoots you? There's a lot of factors here, Harold."

Finch looked at her with sympathy in his eyes. He knew what he was asking of her and he wouldn't be asking it if they hadn't arrived at a rock and a hard place. "I know, Miss Shaw. But I would rather be in danger myself than allow a number to come to harm."

Shaw scoffed. She wasn't so sure it would be such a bad thing if this particular number did come to harm. And Harold was playing dirty, she cared every bit about the numbers as he did, and she knew that. Still, she found herself begrudgingly conceding to Finch's will.

"I gotta tell ya, I really don't like this, Finch."

"Neither do I, Ms. Shaw."


End file.
